The Baker and the Hunter
by DandelionSunset
Summary: Due to an awkward discovery, Katniss faces the sudden revelation that Peeta is a man with needs... needs, she's realizing, she wants to fill. How will they cross the line from being friends to lovers? *Post-Mockingjay*
1. An Awkward Discovery

**AN:** I took this story down about a year ago. I never expected anyone to read this when I first posted it, let alone for it to gather over 1000 followers in a few months, and I guess I felt the pressure of it all, especially since I kept noticing so many errors/mistakes when I'd go back and read it. Upon many requests and consideration, however, I've decided to polish the story up, rewrite/edit, repost, and continue for those who wish to read it. It'll be a bit different than originally written as I have a lot of new ideas I wish I would have used before, but the heart of it will still be the same. Hope you enjoy the story!

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_Chapter One_

**An Awkward Discovery**

It's been 11 months since Peeta came back to District 12 and planted the primrose bushes, and although the horrors we've endured still linger, every day that passes brings some semblance of normalcy back into our lives.

Peeta busies himself with baking delicious things and painting whatever beauty he still manages to see in the world. Most of the time, with all his heartfelt and wonderful creations, you'd never fathom the torment that still plagues his mind. Occasionally, however, a random word, object, or person will trigger a flashback, he'll hold onto something until his knuckles turn white, squeezing his eyes shut as if in excruciating pain, or he'll ask if something is real or not, and I'm reminded that although his hijacking may be for the most part under control, it'll never fully disappear.

As for me, I spend my days hunting and spending hours in the meadow, which has mostly grown back, feeling nostalgic as I remember the lives that were lost, and wishing for the life I had before the Games, before everything I knew was destroyed. Back when I would come here with Gale and we'd talk about the future as if we could control it.

Sometimes the memory of what used to be hits me like a ton of lead and I have to remind myself to breathe. Things were hopeless then, yes, but they were normal. _Now_? Now I don't even know what normal is, or how I'll ever get back to it. The people I loved my entire life, the ones I survived for, are all gone. Prim, my little sister who had so much to live for, is dead, Mom is far off in District 4, keeping herself distracted with healing the sick and wounded, and Gale has gone to District 2 for good. He still appears on television every once in a while, but as soon as I see his face I turn it off. It stings too much to see him. It reminds of Prim, and it's simply another reminder that nothing will ever be the same, and neither will I.

I have Peeta, though, and he's the only person I really need anyway. Despite every attempt president Snow had made to keep us apart, Peeta's the one person I can always count on to never abandon me willingly - mostly because I'm all he has now, too. We're damaged beyond repair, each in our own way, with tragedy in our blood and death haunting our minds, but somehow we bring a small amount of happiness and clarity into each other's life. Without him, I'd more than likely be a drunk like Haymitch or a Morphling, trying to block out reality, or I'd be dead trying to escape it forever.

We keep ourselves constantly occupied in fear of our minds wandering off into dangerous territory. We speak as little as possible about what has happened, both of us knowing and not wanting to relive the pain and horror the Hunger Games brought into our lives. When we're together, we usually work on our memory book – I write while he sketches and paints. We use the book as a release, as a way to deal with it all in our own way, and to heal. We never have full-blown discussions about it, though. We work together in quiet, pensive reverence of those who have been lost forever. Or maybe we just don't know what to say. I never can seem to find the words; nothing seems adequate enough, although my mind always seems to race.

In all honesty, I am not sure what sort of relationship Peeta and I have at this point. We've never discussed it– we just _are_. It took a little bit to grow back together at first. He still didn't fully trust me due to the effects of the hijacking, and I was still distraught over Prim's death and the aftermath of the rebellion. But after a couple months we realized that the only way we'd be able to move on and heal is by helping each other.

He still has his bad days where everything confuses him and frustration and anger bubbles to the surface, though he usually spends these days at his house alone, away from me, and I still have sinking moments of depression where I never want to leave my bed. But we get through it, knowing we have each other. I don't want to mess up this balance we have, either. He's my protector, my peace and calm, my stability. In short, he's become my best friend.

Starting about four months after he'd come back, we began sleeping together again. The houses in Victor Village are really too big for one person… too empty, too quiet, too _haunting_. And just as we had during the Games and on the train, we know that when we sleep together, we sleep more peacefully. We still have nightmares, as to be expected, but far less often, and they're much easier to deal with when someone else is there to comfort you when you wake up in a panic, shaking with dread.

He still bakes, showers, and keeps his belongings at his house, though, and hasn't moved in, even if I think it'd make things easier for both of us. Never having been much of a people person, Peeta is the only one I could never tire of being around. We're both aware, though, that if he were to officially move in with me, it'd open a can of worms neither of us are prepared to deal with.

Ever the gentleman, Peeta hasn't pushed any intention or made any sort of unwelcome moves on me during our nights together. Up until now, it's been about nothing more than friendship and comfort. I don't think I could handle anything else, to be honest. I wouldn't know what to do or how to act around him anymore. Despite my uncertainty, I've often wondered what would happen if he found someone else. Someone who could satisfy him in ways I haven't. Imagining Peeta in love with another woman, spending his life with her, having the children he longs for, and eventually forgetting me… it makes me anxious and sick.

I know I love him, of that I have no doubt. I couldn't imagine life without him. But I'm worried about what will happen if I take that step forward, if I complicate what we have. What if I lose him? I don't think I could deal with that at this point, and it seems that I always eventually lose the ones I love the most. I'm also sure I don't want him to leave me for someone else. And, right now, he has every right and reason to do just that. He's been more patient, sweet, and caring than I could ever possibly deserve.

I know that eventually we'll have to confront this and discuss what we have, and where we stand with each other. Just… not _today_. I'm not ready for things to change yet.

Earlier I'd been out hunting, and I managed to shoot three squirrels and a rabbit before rain clouds started to move in. Even though I usually stay out for at least a few more hours, I decided to walk back home and start cooking a little earlier than normal. Greasy Sae taught me how to cook decently in the months she was around to help me, until I was able to take over the duty myself and take control of my life again.

As the rabbit is almost done frying, I glance out of the huge bay window in the kitchen. The clouds have cleared up and the sun is starting to get lower, setting the sky ablaze with bright pink, purple, and orange.

And I think of Peeta.

This morning I woke to find him leaving early. I asked why, still half asleep, and he quickly said something about having to bake some bread and rushed off. It was kind of odd considering the sun hadn't even risen yet and he bakes only for hobby, but I was too tired to think about it much at the time. I simply shrugged it off and went back to sleep. Now, I wonder if there was something more to it. Maybe he woke up feeling as if it'd be a bad day in relation to his hijacking, perhaps a nightmare had triggered something. It's happened before, although he usually tells me when he feels this way. I never quite know whether to leave him alone in those moments or try to distract him from the thoughts that haunt him, but I usually keep my distance because I'm unsure of how to make things better.

The sun has completely set by the time dinner is done, even if I'd finished making our meal a couple hours before I usually do. Well, _my_ part of it is done anyway. It's an unspoken agreement between us, but I usually prepare the meat for our meals, and he naturally takes care of the bread and deserts. I make my way to his house to let him know that I have dinner done early, but when I knock on his door and wait, I hear no answer or footsteps approaching. I knock again and I still hear nothing. Curious as to why he isn't answering, and a little worried, I open the door and walk inside. I know that if he'd gone into town, which is very unlike him to do without telling me, he would have at least locked his door.

I call out for him, but I still don't receive an answer. All at once, every worst case scenario runs through my head, and as panic begins to course through my veins and adrenaline kicks in, I run up the stairs and into his bedroom without a second thought. I glance at his messy bed and the clothes scattered on the floor. I take in the aroma that only a baker's room would smell like... bread, sugar, cinnamon; the scent of Peeta that I've grown so accustomed to.

I call his name again, and my heartbeat returns to normal as I finally hear his muffled voice from down the hall yell back that he'll be with me soon. I feel silly for being so fearful a moment ago, but also overwhelmingly relieved.

As I wait for him, I casually take in my surroundings. Despite him sleeping at my house every night, his bedroom definitely looks lived in. I notice an easel in the corner with a canvas sitting on it, though he only has some green strokes of paint on the bottom, evidently having just started on it. I look over at the messy bed again and my gaze stops abruptly as I notice something sticking out from beneath the covers. I step closer and pull the blanket back slightly to get a better look at what it is, and I narrow my eyes when I see the face of a girl who has a striking resemblance to me. Appearing to be some sort of Capitol magazine, I pick it up without thinking.

I _should_ have thought….

I shouldhave just left it there. I shouldn't have let my curiosity get the better of me.

To say it's an adult publication would be speaking lightly. And now here it is, right in my face, unable to be ignored: direct proof and realization that Peeta is, in fact, a sexual being. My mind attempts to process what I'm seeing, reasoning whether or not it's coincidental that the magazine is flipped to a page with a naked woman who could be my twin, despite no burn marks, scars, and a fair amount of photo editing. She has a long side-braid, is wearing a pair of black wings – in fact, it's the _only_ thing she's wearing, and she's shooting a bow. It's obviously a model posing as me, as some sort of sexual role-play fantasy based on the Mockingjay. I don't know whether to be offended or flattered. I do know that even though it isn't me, I'm mortified that Peeta has seen this… and due to the way the magazine has been creased so many times that it automatically stays open to this page in particular, he has obviously enjoyed looking at it for a while.

I don't want to deal with this right now.

With my hands shaking and my mind reeling, I quickly decide to put the magazine back and pretend I never saw it. Before I can, however, Peeta says my name from right behind me, taking me by surprise, and causing me to jump and turn around. I accidentally drop the magazine and it falls to the floor, landing open on that same page with my naked double staring up at both of us. I frantically glance down and then to the side, not knowing what to say and completely unable to look at him. I know my face is deep red, and I can't hide or prevent it. Though I'm fully clothed, I feel naked and exposed in front of him. He immediately leans down, retrieves the magazine, and hastily tosses it into a nearby drawer before turning back to me.

"Katniss?" Peeta starts timidly, his voice barely above a whisper, and I can tell that he's just as uncomfortable as I am about the situation, if not more so. "Listen… I can explain."

I don't think he really _can__,_ though, and I'm not sure I even want him to. I think we both know exactly what he'd used that magazine for, and I don't need him to spell it out for me.

I attempt to bring my eyes to his and as they drift upward, I see that he'd been in the shower. Water droplets fall from his hair, trickling down his bare, muscled chest and torso. He has numerous scars and burns all over, just like me, but I'm used to the sight of them and they don't faze me at all. The only thing he's wearing is a pair of boxer shorts, and while there's been nights during the summer when that'd be the only thing he'd sleep in, it's… different now. It makes me feel awkward, seeing him half-naked like this.

When I finally meet his eyes I see that they're wide with alarm. He looks ashamed and embarrassed. My mouth starts to open and close, but I can't find any words. I don't know what to say because I'm not sure how I feel.

"Katniss, _please_ don't think I—"

"Stop," I say suddenly, cutting him off. I close my eyes and rub them with my fingers.

"What?" he asks in confusion. "I _really_ think I need to explain."

"Explain _what_, Peeta?" I bite my lip nervously and avoid his eyes as all the blood in my body continues to flood into my cheeks. "You don't _need_ to explain anything to me. I shouldn't have snooped."

"No, _I_ shouldn't have left it out. I didn't expect you this early," Peeta continues in an apologetic, worried tone. I arch an eyebrow at him as he winces at his words and takes a deep breath before continuing. "I promise I'll get rid of it! I don't really need it anyway. Haymitch gave it to me when…" His voice fades as the thoughts in my head grow louder and I get distracted by a water droplet rolling slowly down his chest.

Peeta went into the Games a boy, but there's no doubt that he's a man now. We've _both_ grown up and been through so much over the past few years… having been so concerned and constantly worried about whether we'd die, that I realize we haven't really lived much at all. We didn't have a chance to concern ourselves with thoughts of pleasure because the pain took precedence. And it feels odd that we'd both feel so embarrassed about something like this, something so relatively normal to everyone else. As weird as it makes me feel, I know it's unrealistic to think Peeta _wouldn't_ have normal sexual desires like any other man.

"You're mad at me, aren't you?"

"I'm not mad," I mumble with a self-conscious shrug. "I'm just surprised. I didn't know you were into that sort of thing."

"I'm _not_! I mean, it's not a regular habit. Just when…" Peeta stumbles over his words, seemingly humiliated and horrified. His face is flushed as he places a hand to the back of his neck and begins to rub it. "I _know_ it looks bad. You probably think..."

"I probably think what?"

"That I'm a pervert. I promise I'm not, Katniss!"

"I'd _never_ think that about you," I quickly reassure. "Look, I know you've been stuck here with me and that… that you have… _need_s that I can't help with. Just… why…" I trail off and shake my head before I can finish my question. I want to ask, but I'm not sure how.

"What?"

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes as I blurt, "Why me? I mean… why did you choose a girl that looked like me to… you know…?" I feel like disappearing on the spot, and I don't know how things will ever be normal between us again after this. I feel ridiculous for asking because I already know the answer. I'm only making things more uneasy between us. "Nevermind. Just forget—"

"I think you know why," he whispers before I can finish. I quickly open my eyes again, my hands shaking and my heart beating fast, as I study his sincere, but nervous expression. I'm not sure I'm ready for this. I want to say something, but I can't seem to find my voice. "You're perfect, Katniss. I'm _fine_ with things the way they are. You know that. Nothing needs to change." Goose bumps prickle upon my skin as he reaches out and tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear. His hand lingers on my cheek for a moment before moving down to cup my chin and gently tilting my face upwards to look at him. "Please don't shut me out over this?" he whispers pleadingly, his eyes searching mine. "The only _need_ I have is you."

I gulp and avert my eyes, remembering a certain conversation we'd had on the beach during the Quarter Quell. I was prepared to die for him, and he for me. Fate had other plans, though. I also remember the hunger I'd felt when we'd kissed afterwards. It was passionate and… honestly the most pleasurable thing I've ever experienced in my life. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it often, or of what it'd be like to do it again. What would have happened if we'd both made it onto the hovercraft unscathed, instead of Peeta being taken by the Capitol and hijacked? Where would we be now? What would our relationship be at this point?

"You know I need you too," I finally mumble in reply.

I look back at him to find him eyeing my quizzically, seemingly unconvinced, and I feel slightly defensive all of a sudden.

"It isn't that I'm _not_ enjoying having this conversation with you, Peeta," I finally say, trying to gather my composure on the situation and bring back a bit of normalcy between us, "but it _might_ be slightly _less _awkward if you were dressed."

"Oh! Right!" Peeta replies in a rush, as if he'd only just realized he was standing in his underwear. "Sorry. I'll just—"

"No need to be sorry. I've seen it before," I reassure with a dismissive wave of my hand as I make my way over to his bedroom door. "I just came by to tell you dinner's done early. We're having squirrel and rabbit."

"I'll be right over. I'll bring some cheese buns and a carrot cake," Peeta says, his voice shaky as he pulls his pants up to his waist as quickly as possible.

"Good." A small smile creeps onto my face as I try to relieve some of the embarrassment of the situation with a bit of well-intentioned teasing, "I'm sure you've worked up quite an appetite."

With that, I turn quickly and leave before he can reply.


	2. Changes

_Chapter Two_

**Change**

Once inside the confines of my house, I close my eyes and lean my head against the front door as I try to process what just happened.

The provocative image of my nude lookalike seems to be seared into my mind, and although it's not _really _me, I can't help feeling self-conscious and embarrassed about it. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that people in the Capitol would do something like that as sexual modesty has never exactly been a priority on their list. In fact, I should probably be grateful that they commissioned a model instead of forcing me to pose for the pictures myself. I'm sure president Snow would've found my discomfort rather entertaining after all.

However, it still nauseates me when I think of all the people who might have copies of that magazine and who else might have used that same image to achieve sexual gratification. What's worse is that I know if there's _one_ magazine with images such as this, there are probably many more. I never really thought about it before now, but I guess I shouldn't expect upstanding moral judgment from people who once encouraged the act of children slaughtering each other. Nevermind the 'fans' who'd pay top dollar to sleep with their favorite victor afterwards. So when everything is said and done, as much as the magazine appalls me, I'm grateful that I wasn't forced to personally _act out_ these fantasies for anyone. Somehow Peeta and I escaped that fate, and I'm certain that if it hadn't been for the star-crossed lovers act and the fake engagement, it'd be a much different story.

I'm not sure how to feel or what to think about _Peeta_ owning a magazine like that, let alone having been pleasuring himself for quite some time to a photo that's supposed to represent me, though. I'd like to think he'd be above that. A strange mix of emotions course through me at this new information – I'm disgusted and mortified by his actions, sure, but it's difficult to be angry with him. Being in a relationship with anyone else at this point isn't really feasible for either of us, and it's natural that he'd have certain… _urges. _To be honest, after spending every day with each other and sleeping together every night, I can't comprehend why he's never acted on them, even if I'm uncertain of how I'd respond if he did. With everything that's happened over the past few years, especially last year, romance and anything related to it has been extremely far from my mind. I guess I can understand why he'd need to turn to a magazine picture for physical comfort, even if it sort of stings that he'd choose that option.

Another part of me, removed from any dwelling on the magazine, is overwhelmed at the underlying meaning of all this. Peeta and I have grown back together over the last year as friends – and with his hijacking, I was sincerely thankful for simply that much. But the implication of this revelation means he wants _more_ than friendship from me, even if he's been hesitant to say it to my face. Like me, he's probably confused of how to take the next step and afraid of what may come of it, or how I might react. I'm not sure what to think or how to ask him about it... or if I even _should_. I don't know much about sex and relationships, and I have no idea what it is that I want.

However, I do know that if I'm to be with anyone, it's Peeta. I can't imagine myself with anyone else at this point. I don't think anyone else could understand us, who we are and what we've been through, as much as we understand each other.

It takes about fifteen minutes for Peeta to make his way to my house, and I can tell he's still feeling just as awkward as I do about our encounter because he knocks, which he usually never does. With my heart pounding in my chest, I take a deep breath and roll my eyes at the absurdity of the situation as I open the door. For a moment, he looks at me warily, raising his eyebrows in question as if asking if it's okay to come in, and I immediately wave my hand in gesture for him to enter. I notice he's intentionally keeping a small distance between us, and for some reason this annoys me. I know it shouldn't, though. He's only making sure not to overstep any boundaries and is treading carefully not to offend me further than he already has, but as impossible as it seems by now, I don't want things to change like this between us. I don't want things to become uncomfortable or like he feels he needs to distance himself from me. Not when we've spent months growing as close as we have.

With his arms full of food, he makes his way to the dining room without so much as a hello. I purse my lips and follow closely behind, growing more frustrated with each step due to the prolonged silence between us. As he places a tray of cheese buns down on the table, I sigh loudly and fold my arms over my chest as I ask, "So you're going to start knocking now?"

He glances up at me timidly through his long lashes, almost appearing as if I'd smacked him, and I merely raise my brows in return as I await a reply. He quickly averts his eyes as he begins taking off the plastic covering from the food he'd brought over.

"Well, I thought it'd be an appropriate precaution after what happened," he replies quietly with a shrug of his shoulders. It's more than obvious that he's avoiding my eyes now, but I take it upon myself as a challenge to keep my own fixed on his face.

"I knocked _repeatedly_, Peeta. I don't think knocking is the problem here. Besides, I just left your house and I was already expecting you over. It's not like I was going to strip naked as soon as I walked in the door," I mutter as I pull out a chair and sit down. "Sorry, but I'm not the girl in your magazine."

"Katniss…" Peeta begins before shaking his head and falling silent again. With a deep breath, he finally brings his eyes to mine, and I'm surprised by the tremor that runs down my body at the sudden contact. "I'd never _expect _you to be the girl in the magazine, and I don't _want_ the girl in the magazine. She's not _real_. I can't touch her, can't hear her, can't kiss her, can't hold her. It's… _empty._ What I _really_ want is…" he trails off and closes his eyes before ending with a half-hearted, "Nevermind. Let's just eat, okay?"

He chews on his bottom lip, knitting his eyebrows together as if in deep thought about something. I'd give anything to read his mind because I have no idea what's going through it at the moment. He throws the plastic wrap in the trash before returning to the table and sitting down across from me. I keep my eyes narrowed at him, watching as his mouth opens and shuts as if he's searching for the right words to say. Butterflies claw at my insides as I hold my breath, waiting for him to respond. It seems like an eternity.

"What _do _you want, Peeta?" I blurt, my voice quiet and hoarse and almost foreign to my ears.

He finally looks up at me again, and his eyes are both vulnerable and intense as he whispers, "The same thing I need."

"And what's that?" I grab a cheese bun from the tray before me, and this time it's me who's avoiding eye contact. I don't know what I want Peeta to say or do, but this vague stuff is doing neither of us any good. "Judging by the magazine, I can fathom a guess."

"Maybe you'd be right."

With that, we fall silent again. All sorts of thoughts run through my head, but I'm not sure how to put them into the right words. If I say what I really want to, this platonic companionship that we've tried so hard to maintain will be ruined forever. There won't be any turning back. Are we ready for more than what we've become? What if it all falls apart? What then?

In an attempt to lighten the mood, I arch a brow at him and snort, "Sex then?"

"Is that an offer?" he counters, sending me a playful, yet timid half-smile. My face instantly reddens as I fix my gaze on the table. He might be teasing, but I know from what I saw earlier that it's not exactly a joke. If I said yes, I'm sure he'd have no problem taking me up on my 'offer'. Before I can think of a reply, he gives a small laugh and continues, "I'm only joking, Katniss. And no, it isn't sex. I mean, not that I wouldn't want it with the right person, but it's not something I _need_. I've gone this long without it, it's not really an issue. What I _want_ is someone to spend my life with—to hold close at night and wake up with each morning, feeling like the luckiest man to have someone I love more than life itself sleeping in my arms. What I _want_ is for them to want it too."

My gaze is fixed on my plate of food, though I can feel Peeta's eyes on me, waiting for a reply. Only I don't know what to say. Is he talking about me? I'm not sure. As nervous as it makes me, it _is_ something I want. It's something we already _have_. He comforts me at night, I wake in his arms in the morning, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. I doubt I'd ever let myself get close to anyone else in this way. But if this is something he _wants_, it means he doesn't _already_ have it. Maybe he wants something more with someone else. Someone more open and romantic. Someone not so damaged.

I won't assume I'm the one he's talking about, so I clear my throat, stab a piece of rabbit with a fork, and say as casually as possible, "Well, I hope you find what you want."

"Hopefully I already_ have_."

It's as if a lightning bolt has struck my stomach at these words. Now I _know_ he's talking about me. There's nothing vague about it anymore. I quickly glance up, sending him a questioning look. He gives me a shy smile and keeps his eyes locked onto mine. He seems to have gained a newfound determination as he reaches across the table and places his hand over mine, stilling it from the absentminded stabbing of the piece of rabbit on my plate. I find it hard to breathe as his thumb lightly grazes the top of my hand, and when I look into his eyes, a pleasant chill shoots down my body.

"Katniss, what I want is the same thing that I need. It's _you_. It's always _been_ you and it always _will be_ you. I mean, I don't want you to think that…." He stops talking all of a sudden, releases my hand, and takes a deep breath before continuing in rush as if afraid he might lose his nerve at any moment, "That I _expect _anything more out of you. What we have now is perfect, okay? The only want I need is you, and... I understand if you don't feel the same. After everything that's happened, I wouldn't blame you. I cherish your friendship with all my heart, and I don't want you to feel pressured to return my feelings. But I just needed you to know how I feel. I'm sure it was more than obvious anyhow, I'm just saying it out-loud."

I close my eyes and try to take all of this in. Why am I so hesitant at the prospect of being with him? Of telling him I love him, too? Perhaps it's because that without cameras around, it's not acting. It's not a game. Whatever I do, it's _me_… not an image I have to portray. I'll have to face the consequences of my actions. No take backs. No regrets. And maybe a part of me is scared of putting myself into this, giving my heart to him, and somehow losing everything in the end. There are two ways this could go: we're together and it's wonderful and we remain together. Or we find that we're not meant for each other, despite everything, and we break up. As broken as we both are already, I'm not sure either of us could handle it.

I know he loved me before his hijacking, of this I have no doubt. I was confused then, however, and I didn't know how I felt in return. I didn't fully realize how much he truly meant to me until it was too late… or I _thought_ it was too late. When he came back to me after being tortured in the Capitol, when he hated my guts and even tried to kill me, I thought any hope of us finding happiness together was a shattered dream, something that could never be fixed again. Even now, I'm unsure if we'll ever be whole. Yet here we are, presented with the opportunity and dancing around the possibility. This is a second chance, and regardless of the outcome, I can't let it slip away again.

"I want that too," I whisper shakily. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and build some bravery to say what I feel. "So maybe…" I shrug and trail off, unsure of what to say next.

"So maybe…?" he prompts me to continue with hope in his tone.

"So maybe… I don't know," I shrug again and push some corn around my plate with a fork. I know what I need to say, but my stomach is in knots, and I can't find the words. "I don't want things to change. I like the way things are and I'm not sure we're ready…."

"Ready for what, Katniss?" Peeta asks with a frown. "To _maybe_ feel alive instead of just living to get to the next day?"

I narrow my eyes at him as a wave of defensiveness washes over me, "I feel _plenty_ alive, Peeta. Probably more than I should."

"And I disagree," Peeta replies as he takes a bite of squirrel.

"So what do you suggest?"

"To stop being afraid of change. I know it's scary, but…" Peeta runs his hand through his hair and sits back in his chair with a sigh. "But would it be so horrible if we made each other happy?"

"You already make me happy," I state with a shrug of my shoulder. "Most of the time, anyway."

Peeta chuckles and shakes his head, "I'm talking about a deeper sort of happiness, Katniss."

I know what he's talking about, but I'm unsure of what to say so I remain silent as I scoot the contents of my plate around. My stomach is flipping from nerves and I seem to have lost my appetite. It'd be so easy to tell him what he wants to hear, that I want to be with him too, that I love him… that I want what he does. And I do. More than anything. But if I do that, and all of this ends badly, I'll be the one to blame for it. I'd rather have friendship than nothing. However, the way things are looking we're both far beyond platonic feelings anyway.

With a heavy sigh, I stand up without a word, throw my leftover food in the trash, and deposit my plate in the sink. When I turn around, I see that Peeta has followed me. He doesn't say anything, though. He just looks to be in deep thought about something, frowning as if seemingly defeated. I can't help feeling guilty about it. He'd just poured his heart out to me, insinuated he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, and I pretty much shrugged it off.

Some things never change, I guess.

When he places his plate in the sink, he turns to me and for a moment we just stare at each other, as if expecting the other to do or say something. Neither of us do, however. We just stand there awkwardly, uncertain of what comes next. As much as I don't want things to change, I'm aware that they already have. As much as I wish he'd say something – a_nything_, I'm also grateful for the silence… because it doesn't ask tough questions or expect any life-altering decisions on the spot

He steps closer to me and glances down at my face as he brushes some hair away from my eyes and lets his fingertips linger on my cheek, which feels as if it's on fire. I stare at his mouth, his perfectly pink and parted lips, and I expect him to lean forward and kiss me. I'm taken aback by how much I _want_ him to. It's been so long, and it's overwhelming how much I find myself longing to feel the gentle touch of his lips on mine again.

Peeta leans down a couple inches, and I find myself parting my lips and tilting my face up towards his in anticipation. My heart is beating hard against my chest as I wait for him to fill the remaining distance between us. Just when I've close my eyes and I'm sure he's about to kiss me, I hear him gulp as he drops his hand from my face. He steps back from me and I open my eyes in an instant, disappointed and feeling slightly rejected.

He seems nervous and unsure of himself as he rubs his neck and asks in a hoarse voice, "So are we working on the book tonight?"

I slowly nod, questioning him with my eyes, but he only shrugs and sighs heavily as he begins to turn away from me.

In a moment of spontaneity, I decide to take matters into my own hands. It's as if someone else is in control of my body as I reach my hand out, latch gently onto his forearm, and turn him back around to face me. He looks down at me in confusion and opens his mouth to speak, but I quickly bring my lips to his before either of us have a chance to hesitate or second-guess our actions. His body goes rigid at first, but after a few seconds, and in one swift action, his arms envelop my waist and bring me closer.

As my hands trail up his back and rest at the base of his neck, it seems like every feeling we've ever had for each other and every promise of things to come, I feel with this one kiss. It's as if we'd been saving up the power for it all this time. With the exception of the kiss we'd shared on the beach during the Quarter Quell, I've never felt anything quite this passionate or intimate. Then again, the kisses we had before were that of impending death. This kiss is a sign of rebirth, of new beginnings, of hope. Goose bumps prickle my skin as a pleasurable shiver runs down my spine. I feel light-headed and light-hearted, as if I could float off the ground at any moment. I don't want it to end.

I'm unsure of how long we stand in each other's arms, letting our lips and tongues celebrate their long awaited reunion, but it feels like forever. And yet it seems like it can never last long enough. Why had I waited so long to do this? Like everything else when it comes to Peeta, it seems like the most natural thing in the world.

In an instant, however, we jump apart as if a bolt of lightning has struck us as we hear clapping coming from the doorway of the dining room. We turn to see Haymitch standing there, nodding his approval with a huge knowing smirk on his face. If it's possible, my face reddens even more at this.

"Good show. You should really start locking your doors though, sweetheart," he states as he makes his way over to the table and sits down. He raises his eyebrows at us as he grabs a cheese bun and takes a big bite.

I roll my eyes at the interruption, feeling extremely self-conscious at what he'd walked in on. Sure, everyone has seen Peeta and I kiss – it was broadcasted on national television, after all – but this time it felt different… private and personal… and incredibly _real_. I cross my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at him for his word choice of 'good show' more than anything, and avoid Peeta's gaze. I can still see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, though.

"What do you want?" I ask a bit more rudely than intended. Haymitch doesn't come over often, sometimes for days or weeks. Why would he choose this _exact_ moment to interrupt?

"Still as sweet as ever, I see," he says with an arch of his eyebrow and a slight shake of his head. "And I came for the grub, obviously. It's not as if I missed you two or anything."

I feel guilt wash over me at his sarcasm. Haymitch, as abrasive as he is sometimes, has become somewhat like family to me and Peeta, but sometimes we get so distracted by day to day living that we don't communicate as often as we should with him. I scoot the leftovers down to him as I sit at the table with Peeta beside me, both of us resigned that the moment between us is over.

There will be more moments, though, and they'll possibly be even better.

"So you two finally shacked up, huh?" Haymitch asks after a moment, looking up at us expectantly as he stuffs his mouth with some fried rabbit.

"None of your business, is it?" I reply curtly, my face burning. Peeta says nothing, only clears his throat - obviously feeling as awkward about the situation as I do.

He nods slowly as if I'd just answered his question, and releases a small chuckle. "About time."

Neither of us reply to this. Instead, Peeta changes the topic and soon he and Haymitch are engrossed in a full-blown discussion about a new government rebuilding initiative. Since the rebellion ended, the new government has been funding and paying workers to help rebuild what the bombs took away. They could build ten-story skyscrapers for every shack lost and never come close to repairing the real devastation, though. You can't replace people.

I listen mostly in silence, only adding to the conversation here and there as I have nothing really substantial to add. In mid conversation with Haymitch, however, I feel Peeta's hand brush against mine beneath the table, sending a shiver up my arm before he takes my hand in his and entwines our fingers together.

I'm filled with anticipation all over again as I try to suppress the smile that threatens to take over my face.

I glance at Peeta as he talks animatedly about the possibility of opening a bakery, and I notice how a curl of his blond hair is hanging down and covering one of his eyes. It makes me want to reach over and push it back to see him more clearly. I can't help but wonder what makes him tick. What exactly is it about him that makes him so different? That given a choice between dying and losing him, I would choose death. What does that even mean? I know I love him, but am I _in love_ with him? I don't trust my judgment on matters of the heart very much anymore. I only know that it seems to beat out of my chest when Peeta's around lately.

I won't over-analyze this. I'll just let it come as it does.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts as Peeta lets go of my hand, stands up from the table, and begins following Haymitch into the living room. He's almost out the front door, when he stops, sprints back to me, and plants a small kiss on my forehead.

"I'll be back in a bit," he whispers, and before I can say anything in reply, he's gone.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think of the chapter. It'd be kind of nice to know that rewriting/reposting this story isn't a wasted effort, lol. Anyway, I've made a lot of changes to this, as previous readers of this story may have noticed already. I'm also on tumblr at dandelionsunsetff if you want to say hi or anything. :)

**PS:** Sorry for deleting this story (again) after updating. I recovered it after a few people asked about it, but if you faved/followed it before you'll need to do it again. Sorry about my indecisiveness. :P It won't happen again, I promise.


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